Dropping the girls off at school this morning, I was treated to a great, short read on the wall of one of the classrooms. It was a poster (really one of those giant sheets of notepaper) entitled “Things we’re thankful for on Thanksgiving”. Most of what was written there was what you might expect. “Josh is thankful for his dog, Max”. Or “Lisa is thankful for Mommy and Daddy”. In fact just about everybody said they were thankful for their parents, including little Josephine (I might as well lap that up now…someday she’ll be a pre-teen). One little fellow, however, deviated sharply from from the rest of the herd. His entry read: “Stevie is thankful for bows and arrows and guns and Indians”.
THAT, my friends, is the kind of perfect and honest little boy poetry that almost brings a tear to my eye. May it never perish from this Earth.